


Eternal Realm

by AvaMclean



Series: Odinsdottir [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: Community: wishlist_fic, Crossover, Family, Gen, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She died—this was the way she died. (Series of shorts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eternal Realm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/gifts).



> This takes place in the Thor movie ‘verse with bits stolen from the comics and Norse mythology. It’s also a quintessential Buffy falls through the portal and ends somewhere else type of story. 
> 
> Synopsis cheerfully stolen from an Emily Dickenson poem.

**Title** : Eternal Realm  
 **Rating** : FR13  
 **Fandom(s)** : BtVS, Thor  
 **Disclaimer** : Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. Thor and all related characters are copyright of Marvel Entertainment, Paramount Pictures and Stan Lee. No infringement intended.

**Synopsis** : She died—this was the way she died.

+

The waters beneath the Bifröst, that which linked Asgard to all realms, surged upward, striking the burning bridge and creating a fine mist to shroud Heimdall as he brought forth _Hofud_ , the sword gifted to him by Odin himself, and prepared for battle. The watchmen of the gods narrowed ochroid eyes and observed as Ullr fought their way back from Odin’s banishment in an attempt to once again bring forth utter destruction and chaos across the nine realms.

The once male deity had thought the mere changing of one’s sex could fool Heimdall’s gaze and mask his true visage, but Ullr had always been a fool and overly presumptuous. This was proven as the god, now called Glory, fell beneath the might of a human, but not before he’d awoken the resisting Bifröst.

It brought with it a shower of lightning as an unstable bridge was established to Midgard’s present and _all_ of the other realms’ past, including Jötunheim, the realm of the Frost Giants. The bridge had torn a hole, releasing moments from each realm for Heimdall to gaze upon and to quickly comprehend how dangerous the Bifröst had become. Ullr’s foolish and desperate attempt to return home could unravel all of time but, more importantly to the eternal realm, it could break the uneasy truce between Odin and King Laufey.

Odin’s greatest triumph may have faded into myth and legend on Midgard, but those old enough to remember the last great war saw no use for another. Heimdall remembered a time when all those that passed through the Bifröst stank of blood and death and he’d slept less than a bird as he watched over the realms.

This was not a tale meant for retelling. 

Heimdall stepped back from the entry to Asgard and turned _Hofud_ so that tip of his _uru_ blade sat against the bridge and prepared himself to destroy that which linked all realms rather than allow Asgard to fall to war once more. He knew his king’s will and so he would enforce it, but his movements slowed as he heard the desperate plea of the human that had defeated Ullr as she willed her blood, her world to live.

Behind him the eight hooves of Sleipnir struck the rainbow bridge and the colors burned brighter as Odin came forth to protect his realm. Heimdall lifted his blade from the bridge and turned, blocked Odin’s path and listened as the human sacrificed herself for her blood, for her realm. It was the act of a king and Heimdall could not ignore such an offering, even it meant the displeasure of his own. 

The steed reared, four legs leaving the bridge to strike at the air as Odin demanded, “Stand aside—” The order was cut short as the Bifröst sputtered, the bridge falling dormant and Odin slid from Sleipnir’s saddle to stand beside Heimdall who turned to follow his king.

Together they entered the gilded archway and Heimdall’s gaze first found the barest ember of lightning still arching against the vaulted ceiling above them and Odin observed, “That is not the Bifröst.”

His chin dipped in agreement with his king as Heimdall explained, “This is the one that saved all the realms.”

“A human?”

“Yes, my king. Ullr,” the very name narrowed Odin’s eye and Heimdall continued, “thought to bring the bridge to him, but he brought it to all worlds. He set in motion the destruction of all nine realms merely to return here. To Asgard.”

“He was a fool.”

“I thought much the same, my king.” Heimdall agreed and continued, “Ullr located the key to the Bifröst that had been entrusted to the descendants of those that once followed our ways. They made the key human and the sister/child of this one spirit.”

“Who sacrificed herself for the one she cared for most.” The brow above the metal protecting his still healing eye arched as Odin asked, more to himself than Heimdall, “What am I to do with a human spirit?”

Heimdall answered his king regardless, “Perhaps she may find a place in this realm.”

“Spirits belongs in Valhalla, Heimdall.” Odin continued to study the slowly dying lightning and offered, “Shall I summon the Valkyries?”

“If that is what my king wishes,” the trepidation in his words turned his king’s attention from the spirit to him and Heimdall inclined his head, felt the cold metal of his helmet come to rest against his cheek as he watched the spirit continue to fade.

Odin’s gaze remained on the gatekeeper as Heimdall continued to gaze upward before he inquired, “The spirit is female, yes?”

That question tore ochroid eyes from fading light to their king as Heimdall replied, “Yes.” 

There was a soft, almost put-upon, sigh from his king before Odin stated, “Frigga always did want a daughter.”  
A gauntlet covered hand rose and Heimdall stepped back, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as he watched the lightning, the spirit drawn to his king as he manipulated the Odin Force and the spirit before them burned brighter. They cast long shadows against the wall and ceiling as the lightning narrowed to a single burning force before it dissipated with the crack of thunder and left behind a small child.

She stood barely higher than Odin’s knee and she gazed up at them with green eyes wide with wonder and Heimdall turned a considering look on his king. “I believe she was older.”

Another resigned sigh expelled from the king. “It is far easier to teach a child in our ways than an adult. You well know this.”

Said child’s head inclined and she looked first from Heimdall to Odin before asking, voice hesitant, “Papa?”  
Heimdall stepped back and knelt, keeping his head down, which allowed his king to keep his honor as he did the same and offered, “I am here, child.”

Bare feet struck the gilded floor as the little girl rushed forward to be pressed tight against Odin’s chest. He rose and Heimdall followed the act a moment later and followed the pair. Odin paused at the entrance of the Bifröst before he turned and stated, “You did well this day, Heimdall.”

His chin lowered in appreciation of the praise before Heimdall retook his place at the entrance and watched, always he watched, as his king left to bring his new child before the masses of the eternal realm.

+

Little hands walked their way across a gilded wall with wide green eyes trained on their own reflection in that paneled surface. Frigga watched the child explore her bedchamber with an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before shaking her head. A line appeared between her brows when she felt her plaited hair tug at the back of her dressing gown and her hands rose, pulling the thick braid forward to hang over her shoulder as she turned to her husband, the bearer of peculiar gifts.

“I suspect I am to raise her?” She had asked similar questions when presented with Loki and Thor and same as before her husband nodded his head and laughed. There was such joy in it that she didn’t question the why, but simply the how, “From where did such a daughter come?”

Odin took a place beside her on the bedding and she found a hand engulfed and cradled by his battle worn ones. Her nails plucked absently at the calluses as her gaze returned to the child who still found such delight in her refection—perhaps they had a match for Fandral in this little one. 

“The child, who was not always a child, comes from Midgard.”

Frigga turned, her brows raising as she gazed into her husband’s eye and questioned, “An Asgardian has not been to Midgard in many, many years.” Odin’s eye slipped from her face to the child and Frigga’s widened as she realized who had last been exiled from their realm. “Ullr…” she trailed off, stunned a moment and Odin’s grip tightened around her hand, prompting her to lay the other over his clasped ones. “How did Ullr amass such power? His banishment has lasted less than a century.”

“Beloved, he activated the Bifröst in all realms. He was attempting to return to a time in which he still had followers.” A hint of mockery could be heard in Odin’s tone and Frigga rose, tugging her hands free and herself away from his foolishness. “He used the Bifröst to link himself from Midgard’s future to Asgard’s present.”

All warmth left her face, brought with it a chilling tingle that turned Frigga’s gaze back to him as Odin continued, “His attempt to return was thwarted by a human. A human sacrificed themselves in the stead of all realms, but not without sacrifice.”

Frigga turned her gaze on the child, whose attention had been drawn in from the excitement in their shared voices. She rose barely high enough to reach Thor’s waist with a tangle of pale hair that would be a challenge to tame this night, but hopefully not the next. Frigga went to her knees, the gold of her dressing gown spilling around her as she offered the child her hand and waited, patiently as ever, for her to accept it.

Her voice was coxing even as she responded to Odin’s revelation, “What of Ullr now?”

“Perished.” She turned her gaze from the child to her husband, blue eyes wide with surprise before he explained, “Humans have far more perseverance than most realms believe them capable.”

“She was not always a child.” The statement was made as the child took a few hesitant steps towards Frigga and green eyes studied her much as she had her own reflection.

“She was not.”

A little hand found its way into her own and Frigga drew her closer. She ran a knuckle down a round cheek and beneath her chin, lifting the child’s head. She gazed in her eyes, through her eyes and simply knew it had been Odin’s power that created this child, their child. He made her from wind and starlight and she held the shadows found in the darkest of realms and a persevering human spirit.

In that one glance Frigga saw her past and a future that was unchanging and it hurt and it burned. She saw no future in her eyes such as Loki’s, but her pain, Frigga flinched and drew the child into the cradle of her arms before she lifted her fearful gaze to her husband and spoke truth, “I fear her time with us is finite.” 

The brow over his scarred eye drew inward as the other rose before he stated, voice certain, “Then we shall show her such joy that time shall be meaningless to her. She will know peace as she never knew on Midgard.” Odin rose to stand over them and Frigga felt the comforting weight of his hand cup her shoulder before he asked, “Have you thought of a name?”

He surprised a chuckle from her and Frigga rose, settling the child on her hip and those green eyes returned to her face, such a watchful child and curious child as her small fingers found the stitching of her gown intriguing. She cupped one hand around the girl and drew gentle circles on her back with her thumb as she replied, voice a mocking contrite, “Not as of yet.”

“I’ve always been fond of Brunhilde.”

Her brows drew down, her mouth falling into a frown as Frigga turned to her husband to show him her displeasure and ignored his smile as she offered, “That is not a fitting name for one such as she.”

Amusement laced his reply, “And what, Beloved, would be?”

Frigga turned her face back to the child, met her gaze and remembered her fate. “Freyja.” Her searching hands found the large braid and began to unravel it as Frigga turned to Odin and declared, “All the nine realms shall know her as Freyja.” Odin’s nod of agreement freed Frigga return her gaze to the child, their child.

“Welcome home, Freyja Odinsdottir.”

+

The end.


	2. raised together

title: raised together   
rating: FR13  
disclaimer: BtVS and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. Thor and all related characters are copyright of Marvel Entertainment, Paramount Pictures and Stan Lee. No infringement intended.   
prompt: xgirl2222/BtVS, Thor (MCU)/ _Continuation of the oddinsdottir ‘verse. Buffy, Thor and Loki meet for the first time._

summary: Thor is drunk, Loki is bored and Asgard celebrates a new heir apparent.

* * *

Merrymaking could still be heard from the Hall of Asgard as their people rejoiced with the announcement of a new heir apparent. The newest member of their family was a female child that Frigga had held throughout the coronation and well into the evening festivities. This had prevented most from interacting with the child, but Thor—as usual—had eventually worked his way onto the stage and enough into their mother’s favor to be allowed to hold Freyja. 

Thor had presented himself to their new sister, and the crowd, with his usual enthusiasm thus frightening the child. She’d surprised Loki by not crying, but those green eyes had stared up at Thor solemnly until he realized the error of his ways and returned her to their mother. Loki had caught the gentle curving of Frigga’s mouth at the interaction between his siblings and they shared a smile before he too was presented with their sister. Their mother had held onto the child and Loki had been given only the barest of moments to interact with Freyja. 

She’d watched him with narrowed eyes, mistrustful that he too would snatch her from the haven of Frigga’s arms. Freyja would learn which brother was clever as he merely grasped one of her small hands and bestowed a kiss across smaller knuckles. The cheer from the crowd had been deafening and Loki found himself grateful that he had no recollection of his own coronation. 

Thor had caught his shoulder and turned them back so that they stood together before their people. The arm across his shoulders was heavy, but his mother placed himself at his other side and he found the will to smile. Crowds of that significance had always unsettled Loki while Thor thrived under the scrutiny of thousands. 

Many of those same Asgardians were still enjoying the festivities while he and his brother were ushered off to bed and Thor’s arm was still heavy across his shoulders. At some point during the evening his brother had filched a flask of mead and was currently sipping from it as they made their way towards the hall they shared. While Thor was oldest he was still not of the age to be drinking such things. Their mother would be displeased—this however did not stop Loki from accepting the flask from Thor and taking his own drink of it. 

They ascended the stairs and Loki took another drink before handing it back to his brother. The arm across his shoulders pulled him in tighter before it released and Thor spun with a flourish to walk up the stairs backwards so that he might speak to his brother face to face. The wide smile and flush to his cheeks had Loki assuming this was not the first flask of Thor’s evening. 

“Freyja.” Thor made their sister’s name a statement and Loki raised a brow in question which prompted Thor to continue, “What do you think of her?” 

“She’s rather small.” 

He’d expected the usual rebuttal to his flippant response, but Thor nodded his agreement and spoke, voice grave with understanding, “Aye.” Perhaps Thor had helped himself to several other flasks of mead and his next few words confirmed it. “I like her.” 

“She did manage to put you in your place.” Loki offered and hoped his brother well as he continued to move swiftly up the stairs while his back was to them. He uncrossed his arms in preparation of catching a falling sibling. 

“Aye.” There was a note of pride to that one. 

A snort escaped him and Thor’s gaze narrowed, blue eyes—similar to his own and Frigga’s and nothing at all like Freyja’s—gazed down at him from two steps above making his already substantial height taller still. Loki hurried up the next three steps to place himself at eyelevel before prompting, “Yes, brother?” 

A hand found his shoulder, shoving him back and up a step before Thor laughed and continued to lead them up the stairs. “We’ll have to fight many a suitor because of our little Freyja.” 

“Have mother’s sight now, have you?” 

It was Thor’s turn to snort. “She’s of our blood, brother. Of course she’ll have suitors.” 

Amusement raised both brows at Thor’s unique ability to compliment others while still complimenting himself. He rolled his eyes—at least this time Thor had been kind enough to include him. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

“Of course you couldn’t!” The arm was back and he stumbled as they reached the landing. 

Thor’s grip on his shoulder kept him upright and steered him towards the balcony attached to their hall rather than their bedchambers. He ducked his head to hide the smirk at the predictability of his brother and his antics. Instead he looked out at the city, the buildings that shimmered in the light. Some believed the light Odin’s doing—harvested from a stars—but Frigga assured them that the light had been present before Bor and would likely be there long after they had all turned to dust. 

Asgard was a world onto itself and the sky beyond that light was blanketed with stars and glimpses into the other nine realms. Heimdall was the only Asgardian that could see into _all_ the realms at once and Loki envied him that sight. He settled himself onto the bench that ran along the outside of the balcony so that he too was bathed in light as Thor towered over him. The flask had fallen, forgotten at his side as he gazed out at the city. 

“We shall keep her safe.” Thor looked down at him and clarified, “Asgard. We shall keep Asgard safe. Always.” 

A brow rose at such a turn in topic, but Loki nodded his agreement. “Of course we will.” He smiled and couldn’t help but add, “The city shall be whole and the people healthy when our new sister ascends to the throne.” 

“Aye,” Thor agreed, “Freyja, Queen of Asgard. I like the sound of it.” His smile spread as he countered, “But not as much as Thor, _King_ of Asgard.” 

“Don’t you mean Loki, King of Asgard?” He joined in the tired game of theirs with a grin and snatched the flask from his lax grip. 

“Asgard could do worse.” 

He snorted at Thor’s rebuttal and winced as the wine burned his noise and his brother’s laughter burned his ears. Thor settled himself beside him easily, the warmth he radiated—much like the light that flooded the city—washed over Loki. He ignored the way it warmed his usually cool skin and instead drank from the flask once more. There was a sweetness to this mead that sat peculiar on his tongue, but flavor was merely an afterthought when adolescence and mead were mixed. 

Thor retrieved the flask from him and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. He spared his brother a withering look, but saw Thor turned towards the darkened hall. While the city remained lit the interior of their home darkened when their father willed it. Thor rose and Loki shadowed him as he made his way into the hallway. It was then he heard as his brother did: the sound of footfalls, soft on stone and quick as a hare’s. 

Loki moved to place himself beside his brother as they rounded the first corner. He paused at the sight of their new sibling alone in the hall and fell back as Thor continued forward. She stared up at their brother with those wide eyes and he stopped before reaching her. Thor fell to one knee with a flourish and presented her with an outreached hand. 

“M’lady, you should not be alone in these halls.” Loki raised a brow at the gentle tone and wondered if his brother more adaptable than most, himself included, thought. Freyja looked first to Thor and then to Loki, but she kept one hand on the wall and other firmly gripped her dressing gown. Thor drew her focus back to him by prompting, “Are you looking for mother?” 

A pointed chin—that was at odds with her round cheeks—dipped in rapid agreement. She spoke, voice barely above a whisper and Loki frowned at the note of anxiety. “Momma?”

“We shall take you to mother, Loki and I.” Thor dipped his hand, drew her attention to it, “I swear to it.” 

Loki found her gaze once more settled on his face and he sighed before stepping forward. He knelt beside his brother, making their little sister much closer to them in height before he agreed. “We shall deliver you to her.” 

She studied them both—a measuring look that would’ve sat more comfortable on Heimdall’s face than a child’s—before she wrapped her fingers around the edge of Thor’s hand. He smiled at the show of trust and requested, “May I carry you, little one? Our journey will be swifter if you allow it.” 

Teeth worked at her lower lip a moment before she nodded her agreement. Thor accepted the nod and swept her into his arms, settling her easily on the hip closest to Loki. She turned her head so that she could look down at Loki and he inclined his head to her before rising. 

“Did we wake you?” Thor’s question brought her focus back to him and she watched him as he led them back the way their sister had come and towards the chambers their mother used when one of them took ill. Her fingers played with the embroidery at the neckline of Thor’s tunic before she shrugged. Loki watched as Thor’s free hand came up to embrace their sister, nearly spanning her entire back. He stated, more for Loki than Freyja, “She is shaking.” 

Loki quickened his stride so that he walked next to them and found their sister watching him. Her face was damp across her forehead and down her cheeks, but there was no flush to her face that spoke of fever. “Fear not, little one, we shall keep you safe.” 

Thor’s words echoed his promise to keep Asgard safe and, Loki supposed, Freyja and their home were now one and the same, but their sister swiveled her head to frown at their brother. She stated, voice indigent, “I keep me safe.” 

“As you should,” Loki agreed and watched her turn that affronted gaze to him. “We are Odin’s children.”

Some of the tension around her eyes eased and she studied him with an intensity that reminded him of the All Father. Her head inclined before one of her hands slipped away from the neckline of Thor’s tunic and was presented to him. Loki’s gaze left her face to study that small hand a moment before he accepted it. He felt the shivering Thor spoke of and tucked her knuckles beneath his thumb. 

The joining of their hands made their steps awkward a moment before he and Thor fell into their familiar rhythm. His brother caught his gaze and smiled. Cheeks flushed with the warmth of the mead, but his gaze softened when it turned to their sister—his brother had always been a touch sentimental. 

Loki looked down at Freyja’s much smaller hand tucked within his own and thought himself much the same.


End file.
